


time could never hold our love

by ThinkingCAPSLOCK



Series: NoctLuna Week [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Heavy Angst, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThinkingCAPSLOCK/pseuds/ThinkingCAPSLOCK
Summary: He's almost there. Almost.-Day 5 of NoctLuna Week - Lover's Notebook





	time could never hold our love

_It's come time for me to leave Tenebrae._

Her writing is crisp and looping. A song on paper, a melody - one he can hear, if all is quiet, if he listens closely. It says more than the words, expresses something else, something beyond. He's always thought it had a beauty, a grace to it, an inner unshakable strength. Just like her.

Noctis traces the letters, the words, the promise to them. He can feel the gaze of his friends, hot on the back of his neck, hot as the sun beating down at the rest stop. The words are a cool hand on his forehead, the steadiness to his breath. The Empire has kept them apart, the world spinning them, further and further away. But he doesn't have to bow to its whims much longer. He's on his way.

-

_Finally going to see you after all these years._

Lunafreya's heart clenches, her chest as tight, as confining, as the small room she hides in at the heart of Lestallum. He hadn't known, then - hadn't known of the destruction, of the betrayals and the pain. There's so much hope in his words, so much joy, and she wonders if he can cling to it, if he can find a bastion for it somewhere in his own heart. He hadn't known about her. Or his father.

He must know by now.

There's so much between them now, an ocean stretching farther than the one she'd crossed to get to him. Her duty shines ahead of her, as bright and shining as Noctis' hopes, and she prays, hand on her chest, heart on her lips, that he can find his strength again.

-

_My prayers are with you, Noctis._

The ground under him is damp and sticky, the mud clinging to his boots and clothes like a second skin. He shelters the book under his chest, keeping the rain from its pages, from the words he's longed to read, hoped to read, since he gazed out as his city, his home, to see ashes. He'd known she was safe, but the confirmation in his own hand is a relief like no other.

There seems to be no end to his chase - first to bring her home, and now across the lands, around the Empire, to reunite, to reclaim what is theirs. And her words, her encouragement, give him... something. It's something he's always had, but she brings it to the light, guides him back. He has a goal. He can't lose sight of it now.

And he owes her a hundred times over for bringing him back to it.

-

_I received the blessing. Thank you, Luna._

The light shines sharp and bright on the words, scrawled quickly, the letters stained with rainfall. Lunafreya traces the page under her fingers, tries to feel their warmth of his touch. He'd done it, then. He'd been working so hard, trying, pushing, despite all odds. Despite his pain. His words carry a blessing in return, in their own way.

No one else calls her Luna. She likes that.

But she does not have time to reminisce, not now. There is an ache, permanent, in her mind, a flutter in her heart. Her breaths are shallow, her hands shaking and twitching and wrong. Time is not a gift she is allowed, not anymore. She clings to the strength inside her, the strength in his words, as the strength of her body fails.

They are almost done.

-

_Waiting for you in Altissia._

Noctis hasn't slept in a proper bed in four days. His nails are caked with dirt, his hair growing too long. His arms ache. His insides are twisted, his mind racing, never resting. The notebook weighs nothing at all.

One boat ride, one ocean, and they'll be together. Hope flutters in his chest, like the spluttering light of the campfire, like the flickering of the lighthouse, looming behind him. A beacon for the world. A guide to find his way home.

He's almost there. Almost.

-

_Be there as fast as I can._

It won't be fast enough.

She stains his words, the pages, their memories, with salt and sadness and pain. A permanent mark, one she tries to stop, but cannot wipe from her face any more than she can wipe from the pages before her. She longs to send him comfort, to find the peace for him she cannot find for herself, but she fears, knows, that it cannot be so. Not like she wants.

There are simply no words left to say.

-

_..._

He rips through the book, begging, praying, to find something there, to find another truth, another reality, in the blank pages, in the emptiness inside him. His chest heaves, mocking the silence, his fingers shaking so much the pages do not turn as he wants. His eyes blur with tears, and the notebook is unclear before his eyes, yet he still sees what he does not wish to.

She isn't there. She isn't in the first blossom, old and dull, worn with time. She isn't in the last, still fresh, still wilting. Still dying. She isn't pressed in the pages between, stored in her words, their memories. She isn't anywhere. It's only a book.

It isn't enough to save her. And he knows it never, ever will be.


End file.
